The classroom was bright and spotless. Students cherished the last quiet moments before class to chat—until Luo Qingchuan stepped inside.

The usual truant had arrived precisely on time. Big news.

Cautious glances flickered toward him—curious, startled, then swiftly withdrawn.

Outside, the parasol tree’s crown swayed with graceful charm. Luo Qingchuan settled into his seat and caught his faint reflection in the glass.

…Someone’s watching me.

He recalled that unexplained stare.

From the doorway of Class 7.

Zuo Tian. The destined protagonist.

Wait—why was he still only at Qi Refining Ninth Layer? Luo Qingchuan felt a trace of genuine surprise.

Failed Foundation Establishment? Hiding his strength? How fast the future shifted… Butterfly effect?

He felt no anxiety, no fear. Only calm resolve: *It was bound to come. Let the storm rage harder.*

After the Qinggang Bar incident—seventy-three survivors, Peony’s death, his own successful Foundation Establishment—he knew he now held the strength and the right…

Like warriors across ages who refused to bow, Luo Qingchuan reached to seize fate by the throat.

In their first clash, he had won.

Class began.

The math teacher, a woman in her thirties, spoke with a soft voice. Her gaze held sharpness softened by warmth.

In his past life, Luo Qingchuan had been a top student—relentlessly diligent, starving for sleep to become a “model adult.”

Now? A known troublemaker. No need to pretend.

He openly spaced out. When the teacher glimpsed his cold, fierce profile, she’d sigh and look away, too weary to intervene.

Instead, Luo Qingchuan reviewed new techniques from the Scripture of Calamitous Chaos post-Foundation Establishment.

The scripture held four branches: Calamity Shadow, the sword art of Calamity Blade, the saber art of Calamity Blade, and Chaos Step.

Calamity Shadow was a divine ability—cultivation allowed shadow-forming into spirits, breathing fire or frost, shaking minds, amplifying fear.

Luo Qingchuan had refined it to:

conceal his form,

erase traces,

weave shadow cloths to block attacks,

and sharpen his intimidating aura.

The sword art of Calamity Blade excelled in long-range combat—stationary strikes from afar.

First move: “Calamity Blade Hanging Overhead.” Eerie. Lethal. A blade materializing above the target’s head—utterly unexpected.

The saber art of Calamity Blade favored close quarters. Person and blade as one. Every post-Foundation move a killing technique, brimming with destructive force—

unleashing wide blade auras,

or concentrating power to a single, peerless point.

Chaos Step: phantom footwork, gliding through shadows.

Truly worthy of the Fate Defiance System.

Luo Qingchuan felt secure.

Then—a message from Chen Yanyu.

A girl named Lu Chuning had sought her out…

He pieced it together in seconds.

Lu Chuning had followed the trail. Locked onto “the Black Shadow”—him.

His brows furrowed slightly. Then he smiled, calm and steady.

No fear.

She had no evidence.

Lock me in a dark room? Impossible.

“If in doubt, eliminate”? Lu Chuning wouldn’t act without cause—if she’d wanted him gone, she’d have taken him during disciple selection… Luo Qingchuan sighed softly, lips curving.

Spiritual energy had resurged, yes—but law and order still reigned.

Yet.

Relief didn’t last.

At noon, a new message arrived.

Teacher Lu: [Come to the Pathseeker Class office.]

The location: the dedicated office for Pathseeker Class instructors.

Resigned, Luo Qingchuan steeled himself and went.

Beneath bright sunlight, he stood before the door.

Hand raised to knock—he froze mid-motion.

A girl’s humming drifted out: clear, melodic, dreamlike. Faint, yet unmistakable to his ears.

…Lu Chuning.

He knocked.

“Come in,” a cheerful voice replied.

He entered.

The office held sleek new furniture. Only one petite figure in a dress occupied the space.

Lu Chuning sat playfully atop the desk, snow-pale legs crossed, tiny black heels still on her feet.

No stern teacher—just a mischievous girl.

Her eyes met his.

“Student Luo, so prompt. Were you waiting for me to call?”

Her smile bloomed—breathtaking, like the rarest flower in a shimmering bubble.

A hint of baby fat softened her face; skin like porcelain, delicate as milk cake. Irresistibly sweet.

From the moment the door opened, Luo Qingchuan’s breathing stayed even, expression perfectly neutral.

Pathseeker Class hadn’t started. Teachers Lu Wu and the others were absent.

This meeting was confidential. Inevitable.

He smiled. “I knew you’d summon me, Teacher.”

He closed the door, walked obediently forward.

Posture respectful. Student before master.

Because Lu Chuning stood among the world’s elite in this new era.

If she wanted him gone—he wouldn’t escape.

“Hmm?” She tilted her head up, eyes clear. “Planning to confess?”

“I don’t understand,” Luo Qingchuan said, feigning mild surprise. “I thought Teacher Luchu Ning found me slow… and wished to offer private guidance.”

“You called me Teacher Luchu Ning?” A finger touched her lips. Slight surprise flickered in her eyes.

“Since Teacher Lu Wu shares the surname Lu.”

Lu Chuning laughed—a light, charming sound. Arms crossed beneath her chest, eyes crinkling. “Trying to get close to me?”

“Isn’t the teacher-student bond inherently close?” Luo Qingchuan replied bluntly. “Especially for a personally chosen disciple.”

She giggled, revealing tiny fangs. Her shoulders trembled as she covered her mouth. “Still no confession?”

Luo Qingchuan stayed silent. “Teacher Luchu Ning… please speak plainly.”

She paused. “Sit. You’re too tall. I dislike looking up.”

He pulled a chair close. From this angle, her slender, fair legs beneath the dress were clearly visible.

Snow-white socks. Black heels. Stark contrast.

Petite frame. Innocent face. Yet eyeliner drawn with delicate, almost bewitching sharpness.

Every detail radiated dissonant beauty.

And Luo Qingchuan knew—she was a monster not to be provoked.

A faint blush touched her cheeks. Leaning on her arms against the desk, she smiled. “You do pick your spots.”

“Shall I move back?”

“No need.”

She shifted backward until only her calves dangled, skirt hem settling just above her knees.

Then, eyes bright with sudden curiosity, she asked:

“So… does Qinggang Bar really have a strip show?”

…